No Pleasure
by sleep-silent
Summary: Suddenly ambushed outside his house, Ichigo is bound and tortured in his own room. He struggles to keep his arousal hidden as his anonymous attacker tortures him with intense libido. oneshot. AU.


Originally a full fledged grimmxichi fanfic. I've taken it down and kept the pilot chapter as a oneshot story. It's pretty old, I'd like to think I have improved much since writing this.

Beta-ed by JoanIncarnate on fanfiction.

I hope you guys enjoy, despite it's outdated status.

* * *

_God is love, but Satan does that thing you like with his tongue. -Unknown_

* * *

So much wet heat. So much fear. So much torment.

Whatever bit of pleasure there was, was drowned out in the agonizing pain.

"Say my name. Scream it." Tape was ripped from the victim's face, a small, wet cloth accompanying.

A man: strong and gentle set. He towered over his victim's unwanted hard on with brute force. More tears scaled his cheeks; he writhed in his pinned position and could do nothing more. His arms were bound above his head, and his legs were spread, knees locked. The man standing over his martyr was smooth, violent and lean. He didn't break a sweat, his voice didn't falter, and he always stayed even with his movements. The boy couldn't see his face, but he could hear his reprehensible voice. Every time the man closed in on his ear, he whispered more defiling words and the teen memorized them unwillingly. Over and over again, the superlative yet torturing voice rung in his ears. And so he cried more.

"I won't." Compared to the man, Ichigo's voice was broken and breathy. Sweat dibbled down his exposed chest, and more so as he pumped in and out.

The man grabbed Ichigo's erection once again before positioning himself.

"No... Please, stop." Ichigo felt the man's tip lean on him. He could feel the cool driblets of blood around his entrance being smoothed around.

"Scream it."

Ichigo gulped down more sticky saliva and anticipated the pure agony to rip through him once again.

* * *

_Hours Earlier_

"Ichigo," An all too attentive face settled inches away from his son's, his voice was light and— "ICHIGO." Suddenly on top of Ichigo, he planted a hardy slap in his face—his routine wake up call. Ichigo's head pummeled to the right and his eyes shot open at the sudden sensation.

"The hell!" He shot out of bed, shoving his straddling father off of him. Ichigo rubbed his reddening cheek.

"Aw, c'mon. You're a pansy if you can't take that," his father teased.

Ichigo ignored him and tried to start his morning regimen. He opened his dresser and began his search for clean clothes. Removing his shirt, he pulled a fresh one on, the numbers one and five embroidered on the front. Definitely his most worn shirt, but no words needed to be exchanged to notice its worn appearance.

"Yuzu made a spread this morning." Isshin licked his lips.

Ichigo knew; He could already smell what was thought to be omelets, brimming with perfection from what his stomach could tell.

"Alright," He shooed his father away from his room, persuading his interests with the food that was probably dropping in temperature by now.

Ichigo finished dressing and jogged downstairs, his family unnaturally lively as usual. Karin dug into her rice before another person got the chance to say good morning; her face was content and her eyes focused on her bowl.

"Mornin' Karin, Yuzu." Ichigo smiled brilliantly, also routine. He anticipated his sisters' smiles in return, predominately why he smiled to begin with.

"Ichi-nii, I made your plate already." Yuzu pointed behind her with the wooden rice spoon. Her apron was artistically plastered with a few stains, faltering from her waist.

"Thanks." Ichigo took a seat and dug in, noting that Karin was unusually quiet today. She had almost finished her food, Ichigo observed from the corner of his eye as she downed the rest quickly and politely.

"You okay, Karin?" Ichigo lifted an eyebrow to her silent response. She kept her eyes glued to her empty bowl. Isshin took it upon himself to elaborate in her place.

"She's got a soccer game today," His voice was boisterous and alerting. He tapped his chopsticks together and pointed at Karin. "A big one." Karin shifted in her seat, her head dropped more. Eventually, she got up and slowly washed her bowl—just as Yuzu and her dad were getting settled to eat their brimming breakfast.

"You going, Ichi?" Yuzu chimed as she sat in her seat. Her face was glowing with euphoria like always.

"Well, yeah." Ichigo shoved a considerable bite of his steaming omelet into his mouth, immediately drooling at the ambrosial taste.

"It's after school, we'll probably have a celebratory dinner after." Yuzu picked at her omelet, still too hot to eat. Ichigo witnessed Karin past his father and sister, she flinched at Yuzu's assumption.

Ichigo finished the last few bites of his breakfast and came in close to Karin's position in the kitchen. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You'll win." Slowly, she brought her groggy face up to meet her brother's and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't be late." Ichigo shook his head, his warm aura mixing with Karin's. He felt a sense of happiness twinge onto her.

* * *

"Mornin'." Ichigo projected his voice over his friends' heads, a few looked over to him with their morning faces, not completely awake.

"Ichigo!" Orihime waved her hand to him.

He took his seat, wincing at the coolness of the chair. Glancing out the window, he noticed what a bright day it was. No need for the lights to be switched on when the sun was plentiful; it had not allowed one shadow to be cast on the earth it seemed.

"How's our new Kurosaki-kun doing?" It was a nudge-nudge wink-wink kind of question and it made Ichigo's ears burn, his embarrassment written on him thickly within seconds. His cheeks piped up to a more vibrant crimson when his friends' attention began to focus on him, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. No longer could he hold eye contact with any of his friends.

It had been about a week since he told his friends that he wasn't straight. As embarrassing as it was, nobody laughed at him. Instead he got a more insulting response along the lines of: "Yeah, Ichigo, we know." Was it really that obvious? He wasn't unmanly, was he? He didn't sway his hips when he walked or speak effeminately. Nothing he did seemed homosexual, so how did he give himself away?

When Ichigo told his family and they too gave him something of the same reaction. Ichigo wasn't as humiliated as he was angry at them all for being so blunt about it. But now it was all over with. At least they accepted him, even if that was already established before Ichigo came clean.

"I, uh, I'm good?" He never knew how to respond to her, or if he even should. So of course this occasion was no different.

"Did you finish all your summer studies?" Uryu shifted his glasses up on his nose, expecting a surprised reaction.

"Of course." Ichigo replied sharply, smiling comically. He pulled out his summer work—fresh, stapled and ready for grading.

"What about you, Orihime?" Stunned by Ichigo's not so sudden question, she swallowed hard and parted her lips.

"I uh," She knocked on her head and smiled knowingly. "I didn't understand some of it." Now embarrassed, she sunk into her chair and yanked out her homework. Unlike Ichigo's, it was crinkled and unorganized, not to mention half finished. Ichigo sighed and laughed an exasperated sigh.

"Maybe next time!" Orihime slapped her desk, wearing a determined expression.

Suddenly cut off by the bell, other miscellaneous students around the room filled in the vacant seats. The sound of shuffling papers and bags zipping open and closed filled Ichigo's ears; another thing he was used to.

Today was just another day.

* * *

Just as Ichigo began to bathe blissfully in the sun, it hid its self. Slowly throughout the day, everything darkened and a gloomy attitude ensued. Ichigo's façade faltered and he finally returned to not giving a crap.

The crashing rain had definitely been expected. Although it was impossible that the clear sky could produce such deep gray clouds and dump all this pent up water on Karakura.

It was the end of school for everyone, naturally not many souls had an umbrella on this day.

Ichigo darted towards his house, knowing he would have to get cleaned up before Karin's game—especially now that he was soaked. He didn't want it to rain on Karin and the others at her game, but now found the rancid weather inevitable. He was only half way home by the time any shred of sunlight was completely shrouded by the ugly layer of clouds, so he picked up his pace and began to disregard traffic. Not many cars were around anyway. Ichigo figured that it was worth the risk.

Or not.

"Shit!" Screeching tires and a loud horn vibrated into Ichigo's ears. His heart thumped down into his stomach as he braced himself, pushing on the hood of a car that almost killed him. The man in the car rolled down his window and threw various threatening insults at him. He ignored them and decided against apologizing to the heated man. He picked his footing back up. The clinic now in view, he forced his feet to go as fast as his body would let them. He didn't slow his pace after setting foot on the lawn, he kept going until he practically ran into the door. Quickly, he fumbled for his key. After dropping it, he tried again.

Then he dropped it again.

Paranoid, Ichigo looked around himself, doing a quick three sixty to reveal nothing around but himself. But he felt something odd. Something besides the rain was making noise. Perhaps the bushes, he thought. Ichigo left the keys on the ground and walked around his yard towards the apparently rustling shrub.

Nothing was there. Shrugging, Ichigo turned back and headed for his door once again. Perhaps his clumsy fingers would let him down so he could make it inside.

Lightning struck, then sharp cracking thunder came after it, shouting its existence with ample interest.

"Huh?" Ichigo dove for his keys but found that the concrete was no longer possessing them. He looked behind him on the ground, in his pockets, and his bag but realized that they were missing. Now he was definitely concerned that something was beyond him. Someone was around, messing with him. Hiding in the rain, but who? Maybe it was just an animal—a little sketchy, but Ichigo didn't want to imagine anything worse. He tried for the door; it was locked, of course, but Ichigo deemed it worth a try.

Now flustered and panicking, he glanced in his window to see if intruders found their way in. The scene from the inside told him no, but his instinct said otherwise.

When he came back to the front walkway that was when everything went to hell.

A force yanked Ichigo away from his window, and an arm reached around his throat and squeezed until he couldn't breathe. The stranger (obviously a man) gripping him walked backwards, Ichigo's feet stumbled as he was pulled this way and that. He watched as his key that he had dropped was being pushed into the key hole. Ichigo was forced inside, the stranger still grasping his neck to the point of his breath being severed.

White splotches clouded his eyes and his stomach began to feel sick as his breathlessness was becoming too much of a pain to bear. He pulled and scratched the man but was quickly becoming too faint to have an effect on him. Before he knew it, his brain was giving out on him and sleep seemed inevitable. He stopped struggling, his body now limp and lifeless. The man threw him down on the ground and removed his mask.

Shaggy brown hair and a plain perfect face was revealed to the cold inside air. He smiled mercilessly and bent down to drag Ichigo to the nearest bedroom. His eyes were evil. Their brown color easily unnoticed from the vast nothingness in them.

He marveled in his stance staring at his new victim. The boy wasn't lanky or crowded with a mass of muscle, he wasn't ordinary or ugly. He was expressionless, his eyebrows didn't twinge together in distress and his lean body wasn't thrashing, the man could study the still image before him with clarity now.

The man grabbed Ichigo's limp wrists and dragged him to the stairs, seeing that there were no worthy places on this first floor for what he had in mind.

* * *

His head throbbed manically as he slowly shook himself awake. Ichigo found himself in his own room. Everything was quiet and collective. His eyes were groggy and heavy, although he didn't feel sleepy. More like... cold?

He was taken back at the sight of his naked body before him, he didn't recall undressing, or even succeeding in unlocking the door. Just that he was supposed to be watching Karin play her game.

The game!

Ichigo leaned up—er, tried to. His hands and feet were bound to his bed posts with a... rope? He finally remembered being ambushed by a masked man, a rather strong fellow. He wore all black and had worked on Ichigo silently.

He shook his bed, making incredible noise throughout his room. That man was probably here, somewhere in his house. And he probably heard that.

The door silently creaked open and Ichigo's eyes merged into saucers.

"Ah, you're awake." His smooth and seductive voice didn't sway Ichigo, instead it made him fearful. The man seemed intelligent and determined—he was prepared and seemed to already know what to do; like a ritual.

"Who the fuck—" The man covered Ichigo's potty mouth with his cold, slender finger. "Don't speak yet." He replied in a hushed tone, his vocals pure. "Savor your voice while it works." The man smiled and laughed at Ichigo as he stared at his nude figure with hungry eyes. Ichigo's body stayed writhing and his chest pumped up and down with each sharp breath he took.

The man wasted no time at all getting to work on his victim. He pressed his lips against Ichigo's with painful force, bruising his victim's face. When he released him he cupped a hand around his cheek.

"W-What are you...? Why?" Ichigo breathed, traumatized.

"Don't worry, it'll be fun." The man pushed his finger against Ichigo's moist lips. Then he slid his finger down until the tip positioned it's self at the part in his lips. He shoved his index finger in, forcing it past his teeth. With his free hand he grabbed Ichigo's chin and dug his finger nails into it. He squeezed harder and harder until the boy relaxed his jaw and exposed his teeth and tongue. The man proceeded to shove another finger in and explore Ichigo's mouth. The warm moistness covered his fingers. He commanded him to suck.

"N-No." His voice was strained and disoriented from talking with a mouthful. The man pushed his fingers to the back of his throat; Ichigo's eyes collapsed shut immediately as the back of his throat was fingered desperately. He began to choke as the man kept his fingers blocking his uvula.

"Yes," pried the stranger.

Reluctantly, Ichigo etched his mouth closed and constricted his lips around the man's salty fingers. He began to move his fingers back and fourth, side to side; stopping to feel around the warm cavern. Ichigo kept his eyes open, he watched his expression and began to see that this man was relentless and would continue on for the remainder of whatever he had planned.

The man slid his fingers out of Ichigo's mouth, he began to trickle the saliva down the cut of Ichigo's abdomen, he smoothed it around with his thumb, feeling the now wet skin, caressing intently.

"W-Who are you?" Ichigo choked out the words through strained teeth.

"I couldn't tell you my full name, but you may call me Aizen." The man came close to Ichigo's ear, he purred his own name into Ichigo, toppling him with all kinds of unwanted ecstasy. He licked the shell of his ear, then nibbled, then bit with force. Aizen ignored Ichigo's helpless whimpers as he worked his way down to his neck. This time when he dug his teeth into him, he sucked all the blood to the surface and watched as the small pink mark transformed into a bruise. He smiled at the glistening hickey, then repositioned and created many more hickeys just like it on him. He planted many on his neck, leaving long term evidence on the boy. Then he migrated to his thighs and continued to suck lower down.

"S-Stop!" Ichigo pleaded, leaning his head up to see Aizen closing in on his groin. The man ignored Ichigo's request and began to touch his softness. Ichigo grunted at the dry heat encasing his member. Now slightly less coherent, Ichigo couldn't help but sprout up. Aizen gawked at his marvelous erection. He pressed his thumb on the top of it and squeezed until Ichigo cried out. He lowered his head down and kissed the tip lightly. Ichigo sighed at his soft lips touching him so perfectly. Aizen clasped his hand around the base and slowly moved his hand up. Soon, the kissing turned into sucking. Aizen dribbled his own spit on it for lubrication and began to pump with his hand and mouth, his hand stroking where his mouth couldn't reach. Ichigo bellowed out at the sudden heat and clenched the muscles in his body. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He could already feel his peak coming along, it wasn't long before he released into the man's hand.

"Cute," He moved his eyes up Ichigo's body, then moved his figure up on him and straddled his abs. Ichigo kept his eyes shut, he barley breathed.

"Please, no more." Not abiding, the man scooted up closer and positioned himself at the boy's mouth. Ichigo gasped at the point of contact and snapped his mouth closed.

He quickly regretted it as his chin was yanked down and the inside of his mouth was exposed yet again. Aizen thrusted himself into his mouth and groaned at the slickness of his tongue. Ichigo screamed out muffled, inaudible sounds. He kicked his feet, curled his fingers, his nails digging into his palms to the point of bloodshed.

After about a minute of diligent thrusting, Aizen slipped out of his mouth. He leaned over and kissed Ichigo as hard as he did the first time, but intruded his mouth with his tongue, twitching it around his teeth and fighting with Ichigo's own tongue. He sucked his bottom lip, purposely making a loud popping noise as he finally let go. Ichigo could finally breathe.

"Ready?" His husky voice was dark and luxurious, his breath dusted Ichigo's face—it smelled sweet.

"No. Please." Ichigo's words were firm and desperate. He knew what the stranger was getting ready to do at the sight of him moving his body down and positioning himself at his ass.

"You're already wet," He spoke with an aerated tone, laughing into his words. Ichigo felt dirty and corrupted, he didn't want this in the slightest. He begged and begged, seemingly postponing this inflexible outcome, Aizen just watched and grinned fraudulently—he liked it when Ichigo pleaded.

"I don't want..." His voice was finally giving out, he couldn't assert what he wanted to say he couldn't even think straight. "I've never..."

Aizen kept his eyes locked on Ichigo for a mere two seconds more before plowing in. It wasn't an easy task for the man either. He lowered down onto Ichigo, pressing their chests together. He made another quick and agonizing move until he filled Ichigo completely.

He screeched his voice, crying out for help—apparently to no one besides his tormentor. But he didn't stop. Ichigo kept blaring his voice as Aizen moved in and out. The pain was overwhelming and he began to see blotches of black and white in his vision. Why did the man have to make it so painful?

Aizen began to speed up, mixing precum with a small excrement of blood. Ichigo kept his eyes squeezed shut. He held onto the bed posts, his feet struggling each time new pangs of misery ripped through him. His breaths were short and ragged; he couldn't relax his abdomen. The whole time he kept his back arched but the pain couldn't be lessened no matter how he positioned his body.

"I'm almost..." The man sounded berated and breathy. He soon came to his peak as he gained even more immense speed. The bed suddenly dipped as Aizen bent down to wrap his lean arms around the boy's waist. He held him extremely tight, squeezing the breath away from him.

"P-Please," Ichigo tried to sound out the words running through his head, he had to. "Not inside..."

The man smiled deviously, as if to take that as a challenge. Ichigo felt the wet, squishing feeling inside him fill him up and eventually seep out as Aizen pulled out.

It was quiet between the two. They both laid there breathing hoarsely and intensely. Ichigo still feared that he wasn't finished with him even though he already came once.

A smart thought, he couldn't be more right.

Aizen dove to the ground and reached in a black bag. He tore out a pocket knife and flipped it open. He licked his lips and twisted the knife around in his digits, watching the glare scan it before it finally reflected into his eyes.

He stared at Ichigo: observing, predicting. Then he decided on the gag. Even though he liked hearing him scream, he had in mind a better idea. He leaned over once again and pulled out a small cloth. He shoved it in Ichigo's mouth and applied tape over it. Aizen marveled at Ichigo's petrified expression as it amplified.

As Aizen closed in on him with the sleek blade, Ichigo shook his head, he tensed his muscles in anticipation. Tears started down his cheeks but he couldn't look away from the brunette's eyes.

* * *

So much wet heat. So much fear. So much torment.

Whatever bit of pleasure there was, was drowned out in the agonizing pain.

"Say my name. Scream it." Tape was ripped from the victim's face, a small, wet cloth accompanying.

A man: strong and gentle set. He towered over his victim's unwanted hard on with brute force. More tears scaled his cheeks; he writhed in his pinned position and could do nothing more. His arms were bound above his head, and his legs were spread, knees locked. The man standing over his martyr was smooth, violent and lean. He didn't break a sweat, his voice didn't falter, and he always stayed even with his movements. The boy couldn't see his face, but could hear his reprehensible voice. Every time the man closed in on his ear, he whispered more defiling words and the teen memorized them unwillingly. Over and over again, the superlative yet torturing voice rung in his ears. And so he cried more.

"I won't." Compared to the man, Ichigo's voice was broken and breathy. Sweat dibbled down his exposed chest, and more so as he pumped in and out.

The man grabbed Ichigo's erection once again before positioning himself.

"No... Please, stop." Ichigo felt the man's tip lean on him. He could feel the cool driblets of blood around his entrance being smoothed around.

"Scream it."

Ichigo gulped down more sticky saliva and anticipated the pure agony to rip through him once again.

Above all else, the man was predictable. Ichigo whined as Aizen's fresh erection pummeled into him again. Old, dull pain registered in his mind. He didn't yell as much now, instead he just breathed heavily.

It had been so long, Ichigo was starting to lose himself. His face was vacant now, no pain or pleasure manifested on his complexion. As his body bulged back and fourth he kept no emotion on him. He was tired, in pain, and completely bereft of hope.

Ichigo could feel himself advancing towards yet another orgasm, hinting he would make a mess of himself yet again. But that still wouldn't be enough for Aizen, Ichigo thought. He grunted as his peak arrived, rummaging through his brain and filling his stomach with butterflies.

Then something gripped the base of his member, with terrible strength too.

"Say it." Aizen demanded.

Ichigo returned to his lively, traumatized expression, he wasn't expecting the change in pattern. He couldn't bring himself to call the man's name. He was already completely tainted with so many other humiliating factors. Screaming his name would cause his dignity to be shrouded completely.

"N-No, I... can't." Aizen's nose scrunched up slightly and his eyes dimmed. He gripped harder and Ichigo closed his eyes.

Accompanied by unimaginable pain, Ichigo could sense the walls in his brain collapsing, giving in and making him incoherent.

"A-iz..."

No!

He couldn't do it—another flash of raging pain.

"Aizen...!"


End file.
